Girls of the North

To our Girls at the virile north,

Taken by the shadow of the grisly hood,

Rise up now, from the slavery lot,

Break thy shackles made of rope and bamboo wood;

Thy flesh has burnt enough for their incense pot,

Thy body was violently marked for clansmen food,

Make haste and heed, before thou become old and rot;

Thy pride has shattered mindlessly and its rude;

I call upon the angels of the North,

And to the mothers that had suffered and gone,

Come now to end the battle you had fought,

When at thy infant age you became used as porn,

The scavengers are still on rampage like they sought,

Coming after our girls to melt their sun,

Our Girls are crying and they are the only ones we got,

They are marred our Girls for the sake of fun,

Are thou not the sunshine of savanna?

Now darkened by the tints of blood and bile,

Thy vocal dare not call the sound of hosanna,

When thy throat aches to be quenched from a nearby Nile,

I raise my horn to the daughters of the North,

Covered with shades of obscurity of duty,

Break free from thy tempest forth,

Shine bright to the glory of thy beauty,

(Poem: “Girls of the North” by Olorunleke Odubote)